Poem: “This House”

This House

Fake plastic flowers hang on the wall.
Plaster crumbles under my touch.
Crippled staircases,
leading to the basement and to the upstairs,
sag underneath the soft pressure of my feet.
Derelict floorboards groan.

A framed photo sits by the splintery desk.
A beautiful woman is posing by the ocean.
She is smiling.
I take the picture up in my hands and
brush silvery dust from the edges.
I put the woman back.
I wonder if she ever had doubts.

The house sighs.
There is a worn-down sad carpet in the hallway.
The doorknobs are all rusty.
I smell a foul odor coming from the pantry.
A gentle mold is growing on the staircase railing.
The house is a sanctuary for beetles and bats.

I stand in the middle of the living room.
This house is a lost and lonely being.
Turmoil and defeat.
Rain and snow and thunder.
This house is a ruin.

I love it.

– Saratoga Schaefer, Written in 2013

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close